Rain
by Procrastinating Penguin
Summary: "Tell me how many beads there are - in a silver chain, of evening rain, unravelled from the tumbling main..." //Kaito x Aoko//
1. Pouring

**Rain**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan or Magic Kaitou. If I did, there would a BO member named Heineken.**

The rain went on.

Her body, which had been exuberant and mope-swinging around just a few days ago, shrivelled against the dark mahogany casket, its shiny panels slick with raindrops. She hadn't cried during the service. She hadn't cried during the chaos at the emergency room. She hadn't cried when the man crumpled and fell. She filled out the flurries of forms and paperwork with a blank, almost eerily tranquil expression on her face. And now, minutes before the final goodbyes were bade and kisses laid, the tomb forever swallowed by the raw, brown earth, the girl had finally sank - deeply so - into an abyss of herself he was almost afraid to disturb the darkness. Her black dress clung to her withered limbs, her hair a crumpled mess pooling on her shoulders.

"Aoko," he called, venturing forward.

Practically everyone on the task force had come, wearing their solemn blue uniforms to honour the dedicated Inspector-keibu. Their brows were lowered, their chins tilted downward, eyes sympathetic but never meeting anything but of their own shoes. He felt something stir in his chest as his eyes swept over the wall of blue. He abandoned the refuge of the congregated umbrellas, his dress shoes sinking a bit into the softened grass as he approached the girl.

"Aoko," he called again. The priest was watching him, suppressed pity in his lidded eyes. He knelt by her side and gently lay a hand on her shoulder. It was still.

She wasn't crying.

And he knew. Regardless of any amount of coaxing or arm-tugging, he wasn't going to pry the girl away from her father. He couldn't. He wouldn't. One of her pallid cheeks was pressed against the dark wood, its surface shiny and polished - almost leeringly so. Her eyes blinked, unseeing.

He eased closer to her, enveloping her stiffened hands in his slender ones, gently lacing between the gaps and cradled her body against his, shielding her from the rain.

Ten minutes could've passed - or perhaps sixty. The sky wept on them, drenching most of his white shirt. He felt his dark locks dampen and plaster against his forehead and cheeks. Closing his eyes, he let time pass them by. The rain, which had stung and pecked at every inch of his exposed flesh, faded to a dull nip into the background. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck. She was cold. And small.

"Kaito?" And then, seemingly from nowhere, so quiet that he almost thought he had imagine it, Aoko's voice trembled.

"Hm," He breathed.

He was right there.

Under him, he could feel her taut muscles loosen, bit by bit. She was trembling- whether from the cold or sadness, he couldn't tell. Her cheeks were streaked with either water or tears -

Or both.

"Kaito," she whispered. Their eyes met. There was no tremor in her voice this time.

"C'mon."

Tenderly he took her by her hands and helped her up. For a second her knees buckled and he thought she was going to fall, and he poised to catch her. But she hastily regained her balance and clutched at his arm instead. For a second her hand hesitated, her arms posed to retreat but her fingers longingly linger. Without even thinking about it, he reached over and took her by the hand again.

They walked back toward the crowd, where the sea of umbrellas await.

**A/N: Just a side note - this is **_**not **_**a one-shot - more plot/story would be to come! Reviews are lovely and are the chocolate chips of a cookie!**


	2. Showers

**Rain: Chapter Two**

_Disclaimer: I do not own DC/MK. If I do, KID would be able to converse with chipmunks. _

It was raining that night.

"Tousan, are you sure that KID would show up tonight?" With rueful hands Aoko pulled the curtains aside, watching the rainwater pour down the glass in fast, open rivulets. It was pouring. _Perhaps you could stay? _A small voice whispered in her ears, childish in its hopeful plead. She swallowed it back into her throat. She knew better.

"Aoko, you know KID never goes back on his word. Once a heist's been announced - he's there." Behind her, the gruff-voiced man stuffed his mouth with toast with one hand and battled with his slack tie with the other. Currently he was losing, fingers tangled hopelessly in the slick strip of neckwear and half-chewed pieces of bread. Aoko let the curtains fall back in place, shutting out the world beyond with a soft rustle of its folds.

"Right." By the chair, she picked up his brown beaten briefcase. Its hide was trodden; the handle well-worn with age. For a second her hands tightened on the handle, the muscles in her arms taut but hesitant to extend. With a loud belch the moustached man choked down the last piece of toast along with his daily cup of coffee. It was miraculous how he quickly scuffed down the breakfast - straight from the pan, without so much as a burnt tongue.

"How's school?" He wiped his mouth absently on a napkin, his eyes already checking out his wristwatch.

"Fine, Tousan."

"How's Kaito-kun?"

"He's fine."

"Good, good." His head bobbed, his socked feet half-way to the door. His tie was still askew - almost comically so - a big, broad-shouldered man of his statue striding with two polar ends of his tie flapping to the side. She trailed after him, his briefcase still clutched tightly in her hands.

"The bento's in the briefcase - "

"Thanks, Aoko." His hands closed around the handle and she felt it slide out of her grasp.

"Go get KID, Tousan!"

But Nakamori Ginzo was already gone, the door closing behind him with crisp _click_. He might have murmured a reply, but whatever words he spared were instantly swallowed by the distant drone of rain outside. Feeling an odd sense of defeat, she shuffled back into the kitchen. There were dishes to do before school.

It wasn't later, much later, that she discovered that her father had forgotten his umbrella.

**a/n: A short little chapter into Aoko's mind. I'm making an effort to post a chapter each week - though this one is rather curt so I would probably post another (longer) one later. And many thanks to ****DarkWolfYoukai860**** for pointing out****the Inspector-keibu mix-up! (I'm a shoddy editor, I confess) Appreciate & love the reviews, as always! ^^**


	3. A Break in Rain

**Rain: Chapter 3**

_Disclaimer: I do not own DC/MK. (Hakuba: *breathes out a sigh of relief*)_

They fell into step next to each other. Their lips of their umbrellas but a breath apart. The rain had faded to a light drizzle, tap-dancing above their heads a happy tune that mocked the girl's dragging steps. Besides them the cars breezed past, wheels edging dangerously close to puddles leering to engulf them. He was careful to nestle her away from the edge of the curb, choosing to brave it with his battered side instead.

Aoko hadn't spoke another word for the rest of the service. The well-wishers were hard to handle - the big, beefy men many of them were awkward in their almost-hugs and limp patting of the shoulders. For their sympathy she had nothing to return but polite smiles. Kaito could see that their pity hurt her; her shoulders and the corners of her lips sagging a bit closer to the earth with each condolence murmured. He kept by her side, lacing his fingers through hers for most of the time. She didn't pull away.

The subway ride had been uncomfortable with every pair of eyes in the compartment zeroed in on their soaked garments, starting from their scalp-sticking hair to his mud-spotted trousers. Not that he minded the attention - stifled clucks or not - not so much that she was there with him, enduring the critical looks with a much thinner skin. The train rattled on with the grey florescent lighting casting an ashen glow upon her already pallid cheeks. He tried to read her face, but her eyes were anchored to the shadows rushing past the windows.

And now, under the grey sky, he found himself stealing glances at the girl walking by his side, barely a foot away

and lost beyond his reach.

_Tap, tap, tap._

From under the umbrella Kaito wasn't certain - for the girl had (purposely?) levelled it in such a way that her eyes were obscured from sight - but her face seemed to have softened a little. He strained his eyes. The angles of her face were no longer harsh and numbly clenched - but sad. No lines threatening to collapse in hysterical tears, but in its place a sadness, plain but painful in its purity. He felt his own fists clench -

_Aoko..._

They rounded a corner, coming to a crosswalk. The light was red.

"Kaito."

There was a small murmur of fabric as she dipped the umbrella backward, and he found himself assaulted by the two deep pools of blue - dark and shimmering. The stone hand reached into his stomach, pulsing threateningly.

"Tousan... he was a good keibu, wasn't he?"

The hand squeezed. Hard.

"Of course."

"Even though he didn't get KID..." her voice trailed off. She swerved her face away, retreating behind a hastily raised sleeve.

"He was the best," Kaito said firmly.

The light turned green.

The crowd shifted forward. Aoko hid her face behind the umbrella once more, merging along with the crowd's pace- though with a hesitant limp. He followed, careful to pace his long strides with her shorter ones. And the fist tightened its grip - wrenching, twisting - powerful in its hatred and fury. He felt sick.

_Aokodoyou-_

They crossed to the other side of the street. The crowd dispersed, most of them walking on ahead, basking in the flow of the bright window displays that gloated plastic happiness and joy. Dusk was settling in; the street lights flickered on with a distant hum. Around them, teenage couples swarmed. They rounded a corner and the liveliness gradually faded into sombreness of cement walls that guarded empty playgrounds and squatting apartment. A mother walked by, fingers loosely hung between a chatting little boy's.

_Aokodoyouha-_

"Kaito," she called suddenly, snapping him from his train of thoughts.

"Hm-?"

"Listen."

Their bodies stilled. Faintly, from somewhere up ahead, there was a low, paper-thin whimpering. Their eyes met.

"Aoko - "

There was a breeze by his cheeks as she flew by in a mess of brown locks and rippling black dress, her umbrella forgotten with a loud _clack_ on the ground. He quickly gave chase after the girl, a step behind as he hovered to pick up the abandoned rainwear. The rain lapped at his face. Her steps slowed, coming to a stop before a telephone pole. There was a mountain of sloppily stacked boxes leaning to the side. The whimpering had gotten louder. Without another word the girl rolled back her sleeves and went straight to work, plunging her arms into the pile and digging through the boxes. Kaito knelt beside her, narrowly missing a cardboard box tossed at his head. The whimpering was clearer now.

"Kaito, " she breathed.

It was a cat - or a kitten, to be more precise. A head that seemed too big for its flimsy neck, trickling down to a sparsely furred body with four limp paws. Its head lolled weakly to one side, opening its pink mouth to let out a small "_Meow_." Gently, Aoko picked it up and cradled it close to her chest, careful not to smother its visible ribs.

He leaned in, placing one finger on its tiny neck. He felt Aoko's eyes searched his face, worried. "There's a pulse." He added. "Steady, but weak. It probably hasn't eaten in a while - though we should take it to a vet just in case."

Aoko sighed in relief. "You poor thing..." she mumbled, running a hand through its meagre hair. Her brows creased, a familiar spark alit in her blue eyes. "How could someone throw away their pets like this?"

"Absolutely horrid," he added, feeling his lips inwardly drift in a smile as he observed the familiar clench of the girl's jaws, the subtle arc of her chin as her eyes steeled.

"It's selfish," she said, rubbing one finger under its chin. It purred. "Don't worry, buddy - you're coming home with me." A smile, genuine in its joy, blossomed across her face, lighting the wearied shadows of her eyes. Kaito grinned, one eye on the tail-wagging kitten and the other on his best friend. Aoko swerved her head. Their eyes connected.

"What's its name?" he reached over, tickling its chin.

A pause. "Gin-chan," she said softly.

A dark, wet lock tumbled forth into her eyes.

_Tap, tap, tip._

He leaned over and brushed it behind her ear. Their breaths touched.

_Tip ... tip... ... tip._

Raindrops kissing the soft dark lashes of her eyes. His grip on the umbrella slackened.

_Aoko..._

"Hey," she whispered. "It stopped raining."

And it had, stolen away so quietly that he hadn't even noticed the blanket of tranquillity that fell upon the alley. The eddies in the puddles had long ebbed away, now mere mirrors of the clearing sky.

"Let's go home," she said, lips in a gentle arc.

"Yeah."

And so he retracted the umbrellas, collecting its damp folds neatly around the handle. Their dress shoes clicked crisply on the freshly bathed gravel, their steps in synch and their shoulders almost touching - but not quite, just a breath apart. And for a while Kaito let him lose himself in the quiet serenity, the voice - _for now, at least_, blissfully silent in his ears...

_Aoko do you hate me?_

_---_

**A/n - Dun dun dun~ to be continued. As promised, chapter 3 two days after chapter 2! ^^ Hope you guys enjoyed it! **


	4. Drizzle

**Chapter Four: Drizzle**

_Disclaimer: I do not own DC/MK. I weep._

_Nakamori-san, please step back - _

_(The arms they are everywhere pulling her in sucking her away -)_

_Nakamori-san, please, please - _

_(Tousan - oh, God, he fell he fell so far so high he must be okay nothing please God don't let anything happen to him-)_

_Nakamori-san -_

_(Nothing can harm Tousan - he's too strong - impossible - the fall so high - )_

_Don't look - oh, Nakamori-san, please don't look -_

_(Shadows shifting she saw a flash of white but it wasn't but why how no oh god there was so much red -)_

The scream clawed out of her throat, sharp and high, piercing the still air and ricocheted against the ungiving walls and back into her ears. Aoko startled from her sleep. The air struggled in her chest and she found herself panting for breath, the sheets tangled painfully tight around her sweat-soaked limbs. She sat up from the bed. A cold night draft breezed past and nipped at her cheeks. Absently she eyed to her left; the window was open, the curtains billowing lazily at the sides. It was drizzling.

She ran one hand through her hair, dishevelled from a night-long battle against the pillow. Her hand felt heavy; the fingers stiff and slow. Her whole body sagged on the bed. How many nights had the nightmares haunted her? She had lost count after the third week following the funeral. They fleeted back and forth in the nights - sometimes fortune smiled upon her and she was able to get five, six consecutive hours of adequate rest - and other times it frowned and cursed her with daily insomniac hell. She glanced down at the bed sheets twisted around her torso and legs.

Like a fly ensnared in a spider web.

With a soft grunt she slipped out of bed, unpeeling the covers from her limbs. She shivered. The cold sweat stuck the pyjamas to her skin; the air passed through with ease and stung her flesh. She grabbed a ratty sweater hanging off the back a chair and pulled it around herself. It was two sizes too big and engulfed a good three inches beyond her finger tips. She felt a little ridiculous hugging the cloth around herself - almost like a child playing dress-up - but then again, aesthetics mattered little when no eyes were there to judge. And the night was forgivingly blind.

She wondered into the hallway, sliding one hand along the wall for guidance. She came upon the small kitchen and there, she flicked on the light and made herself a cup of tea. She left the light on and shuffled into the dining room. An armchair, comfortably wide and worn with affection, sat before the balcony doors. She strode forth and tucked herself into its embrace, cradling the steaming mug in her hands.

The night dragged on.

---

Kaito hadn't expected the rain.

Fortunately it had startled small - nibbling, rather than grinding its teeth down, on the velvet ribbon of his top hat and suit. It was another close call that night - though this time no delicious adrenaline pumped through his veins. He unfolded his silver wings and glided from the rooftop just in time their black dress shoes stampeded up the stairs and flooded the stage. He could hear them cursing in frustration below as he sailed away. Except - of course - it was lacking the creativity and volume of a certain wild-haired officer. His stomach clenched.

There was no fireworks that night – no theatrics – no playfully wagging tongues or taunting promises of a good show. As par to typical KID fashion he did flash the gallery owner one Cheshire grin before detonating the smoke bomb – though his lips struggled in the strained formality this time. The men in black hadn't shown up that night, though he could've sworn he saw the shadows flicker in the alleyways below. They were watching him.

_Good_, he thought, a touch savagely, _Come and get me_.

The city's lights blinked lazily beneath him, an blurry ocean of amber and whites. The night was cool and the wind lashed at his cheeks. The raindrops bespattered his monocle and it was becoming harder and harder to see. His limbs ached – for once he became aware of how much toll the heists were really taking on his body. The tongue of fatigue had slithered in - settled nice and deep in his bones - and clenched on with a vengeance. The rain thickened, drumming against his glider. _Tap. Tap. Tap. Anyone home?_

He had to find somewhere to land soon. His eyes scanned for places where the streetlights couldn't reach. Any dark corner of a back alley would do. He smoothed one gloved finger over his eyepiece to clear his vision. There –

His glider slowed. The familiar mildewed roof unfurled before his eyes. A dim amber glow muffled by the curtained windows. It was late, long past midnight and meddling in the murky waters of when even the nocturne creatures slowed in their prowling. Unease crept, slowly, and began gnawing at his mind.

He shouldn't _- _couldn't - _wouldn't_ have the right - and still -

His glider dipped. With a tug of his waist he swooped down the balcony in a graceful arc. He landed with a soft_ thud_. It was pouring now, the rain coming down in angry drops that would no doubt render his glider useless. There would be no way out.

He paused, then, raising one gloved hand, he gently rapped on the balcony door of Nakamori Aoko.

---

Aoko sipped her tea slowly, taking care to savour the warmth on her tongue.

She was tired.

Her eyes swept toward the doorway. The door that had swung behind her Tousan on that fateful day and left her, again, on the other side.

Tousan had forgotten his umbrella. She should've gone after him. Could've called for him to turn back. Perhaps everything would have been different then... perhaps... perhaps Nakamori Ginzo wouldn't have...

(_red so much red)_

_Tousan - Tousan -_

_(Crumpled - oh God everything was crumpled his shirt his tie his arms his legs)_

_It's raining so hard - his suit his shoes everything is wet_

_everything is wet and slick except the rain is red oh God why is the rain red_

_(Nakamori-san- )_

_Shifting shadows from above_

_(KID is that KID there is a flash of white and -_

_shadows_

_(Nakamori-san, _don't look_- )_

The cup slipped from her fingers from her fingers and fell onto the floor with a shattering _crash_. Aoko leapt to her feet. Cursing softly under her breath, she was about hurry in search for a towel when she heard something rustle behind her.

Instinctively she froze. She could feel, right behind her, that someone was there.

Slowly, she turned.

A shadow. The silhouette of a man behind the curtains drawn across the balcony door. Tall.

She felt her heartbeat quicken.

_Knock. Knock._

It was soft, quiet. A question mark curved at the mercy of the answerer.

Aoko blinked.

It was insanity. A lapse of judgement. The lack of sleep. There were probably a million ways to delineate her behaviour - to rationalize the reason why, instead of turning on her heels and fleeing to the nearest telephone, she shuffled forward, stepped over the shattered fragments pooling on the floor, and rested her hand on the door handle -

A moth fluttering to the fire, she opened the door.

**A/n: Thank you guys for the wonderful reviews!! It's really uplifting to know that someone resonates with the story - there's nothing better the author can hope for ^^. **

**It took me a while to get this chapter out - the idea was there, but extraction took some effort. Anyways - if you're still reading this rambling then you're awesome~**

***brews jasmin tea for everyone* XD**


	5. Mist

**Chapter 5: Mist**

_Disclaimer: Do not own DC/MK._

There was something in the air.

The ball of white uncoiled itself from its makeshift bed, a mess of cloth pooling in the corner of the room, and raised to its legs. It blinked, twin amber orbs strikingly bright in the dark room, and slunk its way from the shadows to the tiny crack of gold glaring in the doorway. Eyes squinting, whiskers tensed, it pushed against the door - its pink nuzzle contouring in an octagon of effort.

Nothing.

It strained again.

The door hesitated - then, slowly, the silver of light widened, trickling into a warm pool of honey that led into the hallway. The opening was compromised by no more than half a foot, but it was a generous fit for its tiny torso.

It stepped into the hallway. A longing meow dangling on its lips, it searched for the girl. The girl with the wild hair and warm arms, redolent of sun-kissed laundry and a touch of cinnamon. With brisk, quiet steps it wondered down the length of the wooden artery, the floorboards stingingly cold on its fleshy paws. The hallway stopped sharply, veering off to the left.

_Clack_.

Door rattling.

A sharp intake of breath.

Ears perked. Working, stealthily (as it was in its blood), it followed the light, rounded the corner and stepped into the living room.

_(the girl -)_

The girl was there, her back to its front. The balcony door was open; the night draft clawed in icy gusts, rippling her brown mane in the air.

(_Giiiiiin-chan...)_

But the girl didn't move, didn't even notice its presence.

It was a man. Dressed in white. A hat was pulled low over his eyes, thrusting his face in fractured shadows. Something glinted off his right eye.

(_Meow-_)

Time slowed. The girl faced the man in white; the girl with the soft laughter and soft warms, the man in the colourless hue, sharp angles marked by the night - the man with no face.

The curtains rustled.

---

"Why are you here?"

Aoko pulled the sweater tighter around herself, crossed her arms and leaned against the door. She peered up into his face, guarded, but not suspiciously so. The rain drops clattered against the metal railing behind him, a whispered chorus to the ridiculous duet.

There was a pause.

"I'm sorry."

And there, the anger sparked - a white hot ache that surged and engulfed her in seconds. She hadn't been angry, hadn't thought about being angry, or even attempted sifting through the tumultuous mess that clumped and weighed down her stomach - up until then. The hatred came suddenly - with a vengeance, and she found herself hating him - resenting the fact that he remained the perfect gentleman - voice velvety smooth (what? was he apologizing for spilled wine on her night dress? For the rain that foul the cocktail party?)- eyes searching, with infuriating gentleness, into her own. She tore her eyes away, _hating_ the fact that he was probably surveying her body posture, calculating and reading her emotions just by the way her arms were crossed or the number of frayed patches on her ratty sweater. Open like a book and powerless to stop him deciphering between the lines.

She wanted to shout. _Why was he so bloody calm?_

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

"Nakamori-san..." he started.

"Why," she spat. "Are you doing this?"

She did not look up. She would not look up.

"Tousan spent his whole life trying to catch you," the words slipped on their own accord, stuccoed with hate. Pain. "Why are you still doing there? You've won, haven't you? Had your little fun and games with the task force. Isn't it enough that the silly,_ oh-so-incompetent_ Nakamori keibu is dead?" her voice quivered. "Was it not enough for you? Or perhaps you need to patronize his pitiful orphan daughter as well?"

"I'm sorry - "

_Thwack_.

His head veered sharply to the side.

Time stilled.

In the background, the rain laughed.

"Why are you apologizing?" Slowly, she drew back her smarting hand. Her voice cracked. "Did _you_ kill him, KID?"

He didn't reply.

"Did you?" She stepped forward. She reached out, the hands shaking (_child-like_), the scratchy sleeves sliding down her wrists as she took his face, cupping his cheeks (_trembling_, _faltering, like she always did_) in her palms. "Did you, KID?" she whispered.

His face blurred, the pale edges of his monocle blending into the fleshy mosaic.

"I saw," she breathed. "That night. Up on the roof. A shadow... one, or more, I couldn't tell. But it was there. Someone else was on the roof top that night, wasn't there?"

She hiccupped. It cut through the silence, immediately swept up by the rain.

His body was still.

"I saw the shadow... i-it... reached out. Then _bang_. Tousan fell... he toppled from the building a-and..." she trailed off, the nightmares resurfacing with unsettling vivacity. (_Oh, God, how his shirt was crumbled... his arms _his legs his face_...)_She swallowed, then went on. "They killed Tousan. And it couldn't have been you... ...right? And it couldn't have been an accident... or... or a misfire, because Tousan was always so careful... and the task squad couldn't get in the building that night.... Only Tousan had the key... and he... he rushed in before anyone else did...

"Someone killed Tousan... and you must've seen them, didn't you? _Didn't you_?"

"It was a hectic night, Nakamori-san..." His voice was quiet, but distant. Cold. She felt his face shift, ever so subtly, under her hands.

"I know what I saw."

He didn't respond.

"You knew," she breathed, realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. "You knew who they are, didn't you?"

He held his silence.

"Who were they?"

"Nakamori-san..."

"Why are you protecting them? They killed my Tousan! They could've hurt you - c-could've hurt anyone in the crowd that day - " she flustered. Her grip slackened - temporarily - she lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of his clothes in her hands and pulling up against him. "_Who were they_?"

There was another brief pause. Then, gently, as if she were a child throwing a tantrum, his gloved hands envelope hers. She blinked, feeling the blinding tears trickle down her cheeks and soaking the collar of her blouse. Their faces - so close - were one breath apart. She had struck him hard; the red mark flushed vividly on his right cheek. His one unmonocled eye tilted, almost imperceptibly, in a sad slope. "I can't answer that, ojousan."

"They took my Tousan, he was all I had," she whispered hoarsely.

"I'm sorry..."

"_Why are you protecting them_? I thought KID's number one rule was _to never harm_!"

"I can't risk you, too, Aoko!"

The air stilled. She widened her eyes.

His hands tightened around hers. He tilted one thumb under her chin; his one blue orb staring unapologetically.

"I can't get you involved in this... I'm sorry that Nakamori-keibu got caught up in the crossfire. I never meant for anyone to get hurt. If I could, I would turn back time and change everything. But I can't.

"I'm sorry, Nakamori-san, but those men are dangerous. It's me that they want. I can't tell you anything... except to please forget everything you saw that night. They don't leave loose ends, and if they know that someone had witnessed the murder..." He faltered, tilting his face away from hers. She felt his shoulders shudder in a deep sigh. "I can't let you purse this, ojousan. To do so would mean knowingly plunging you in danger."

"I'm not a child."

"Nakmori-san..."

"I don't need to be protected."

"I know."

"I _don't._"

The tears ran, unbroken, two rivulets down her face. Her fists clenched. "I'm sick... sick of always being protected!"

"I know." His voice softened.

And the blows came.

"Just like Tousan... always, _always_ _'Go home, Aoko' this_ or _'Be a good girl and don't ask questions' that_. And for what? For my _'own good'_?"

Thump.

thump.

"By never telling me anything? By always leaving me behind, alone, wondering what the heck is going on and never a clue in the world? Always making me the _last one_ to know?"

Her fists collided with his chest: the hateful white suit. The punches rolled, with no real force, against his flesh. Half-hearted jabs that he knew, atoned for another man's betrayal. Gradually, her hands slackened. Aoko was crying really hard now. She drew back, almost cowering back into the door, when he abruptly lunged forward and pulled her into his arms.

---

She was so soft. Like a doll.

He could hear her breathing raggedly up against his chest. She was trembling. Her tears, wet and hot, soaked through his blue shirt and red tie. His arms tightened around her waist - and, to his surprise, her hands reached up, tentative, and clutched at his front - leaning into him.

He could feel her heartbeat up.

He didn't know how long they stayed like this. Slowly, the rain faded to a distant whisper, and her shoulders gradually stilled. The sobs trickled into quiet hiccups that faded into staccato breaths that, steadily, evened out. They were so still, he could feel her eyelids flutter close -

the tears dried.

"Meow."

Something brushed against his foot. A white tail. Startled, Aoko pulled away almost immediately. Gin-chan was nuzzling up against her ankle. Hastily, she knelt down and pick up the cat, retreating a few steps backward.

"You should go."

Her nose was red. She didn't look at him.

"The back door leads into the alley."

He paused. Then, softly, "Thank you, Nakamori-san."

He breezed past her, his dress shoes stealing with impossible stealth across the wooden floor. He glanced back, once, to see the girl's lone figure still rooted at the balcony, her back a frail shadow lost the night.

The door closed, with a final click, behind him.

**A/n: It's been ages since I've last updated this story.... Anyways, the stage beckons, the curtains parted, and now what has gone up must come down.... The end is in sight, and I hope you cookie-nutters are still hanging in there for the ride ^^.**


	6. Fog

**Chapter Six - Fog**

_Disclaimer: Same as always, do not own._

_ Clack._

_ "Hakuba, I need a favour."_

_ (A suppressed sigh.)_

_ "What, no 'hello' beforehand, Kuroba?"_

_ "..."_

_ "Kuroba?"_

_ "...Do you still want to catch KID?"_

_ (Crackle.)_

_ "I don't suppose you're offering to sit still at school tomorrow for me to slap a pair of handcuffs on you?"_

_ "..."_

_ (A rattled breath)_

Kuroba Kaito - rattled?

(A trick of the phones line, perhaps.)

_ "You're serious."_

_ "I need a favour, Hakuba." Pause. "Then you can have KID. No strings attached. On a silver platter."_

_ "..."_

_ "...I'm listening."_

**A/n: Wow... my shortest chapter to date. Anyways... no, it's not me being lazy ^^. (thought I do keep on lagging on this story) It started pouring again today (20cm of snow turning into 20cm of rain) and it's really the perfect weather to update this story, really. **

**Your thoughts? Reviews are appreciated, like always. ^^**


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